So I’m a bit late with the Birthday Post. Jillian turned 2 yesterday, and promptly decided it was time to unleash the Terrible Twos on her poor Mama.

The happy, outgoing child I’ve been living with for the past two years has been replaced by a clingy, whiny mess of a thing. I’m pretty sure it’s PMS.

We’ll get through it. I’m hoping to blame all of the recent craziness on her two bottom canine teeth (those are the pointy ones, right? I grind my teeth so they’re all the same) coupled with the fact that the weather has been crazy-hot and insane-humid for oh, the past month or so. We can’t spend a lot of time outside since I am a malignant mole factory and Jillian’s skin is so pale, it’s nearly translucent. We’re both a bit stir-crazy, I think.

But she’s two years old now. At times, it feels like the blink of an eye. Other times, it feels like this has always been my life and I have trouble remembering just what I did in my spare time before I had a mentally-unbalanced toddler to chase around.

All good things. That child keeps me on my toes, mellows me out, and makes me laugh every single day. Upon waking, she says “Hi! Hewwo! Hiya!” And she is so cute, with her hair all rumpled and the imprint of her blanket on her face. The other day I said something was a piece of crap, and hours later in the car she started to giggle and say “piece of crap!” while we were in the car.

She has also said “shit” in context, so we’ve got proof she’s smart.

The past couple of months have shown a marked upswing in her verbal skills. Instead of one-word labelling sessions, she’s now starting to put together phrases and figure things out. And of course, we’re teaching her important things, like how to say “cheers!” and raise her glass. We got her a tricycle for her birthday and she refers to it as her “sweet wheels.” So the important things are covered. Freddie taught her how to make a rock-n-roll face when she carries her guitar around. It’s the funniest damn thing I have ever seen, and once I get a decent photo of it, I’ll share it with you.

I don’t really know how to construct a narrative that will adequately express how awesome my child is. I write hundreds, if not thousands of words every day about utterly trivial crap, so perhaps I’m out of practice when it comes to writing about the really important things.

From her inexplicably curly reddish hair to her chubby little toes, I am astounded that something so amazing was created by me. And What’s-His-Name.